


Rainfall

by incubitch



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Premature Ejaculation, Sexual Inexperience, Sexual Repression, Size Difference, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 06:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incubitch/pseuds/incubitch
Summary: Muriel’s hut was probably the warmest place in Vesuvia.--Muriel and the Apprentice get spicy for the first time.





	Rainfall

**Author's Note:**

> wow I have really been slacking on my fanfic game I am so sorry folks.   
>  Muriel's second book came out yesterday and I literally never wanted to motorboat a fictional man so badly in my life. I am ridiculously thirsty for him and therefore I wrote this self indulgent trash. please enjoy. or don't. whatever. 
> 
> *my apprentice is an afab trans man which doesn't really matter in the context of this specific oneshot but I just thought I'd add that lil piece of information.

  Muriel’s hut was probably the warmest place in Vesuvia. The fire burned in the hearth, the crackling of the logs providing comfortable ambient noise. The weather outside was cold and dreary, the angry rumble of distant thunder was a warning for the creatures of the forest to take shelter from the impending storm. There was no time for the pair to travel all the way back into town and to the shop before the rain started. So, they entered Muriel’s house, they sat on his bed, and they started kissing for the first time.

 Malachi started it, of course, with his hands on either side of Muriel’s face and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He had tried to initiate such intimate contact before, but something in him always told him that it wasn’t the right time. But now, as they sat together in the comfort of Muriel’s home, he decided that he couldn’t wait any longer.

 He gave Muriel the option to deny his advances, which he (thankfully) did not. It was evident that Muriel had minimal experience when it came to kissing, but his shyness proved to be endearing. It isn’t until Malachi breaks away to lower himself to his knees between Muriel’s legs that he begins to notice that the bigger man is trembling.

 They take a moment to enjoy the stillness, both of them catching their breath and assessing the situation. Were they really doing this? There would be no turning back if this new threshold was crossed, their relationship would take on an entirely new dimension. Obviously, Muriel was having similar thoughts, because he cleared his throat and broke the silence:

  “You don’t…have to do this.”

   Malachi let out a huff that was meant to be a laugh. “I know I don’t _have_ to, Muriel. I _want_ to.” And then, softer. “Is this alright with you?”

  He looks like he might answer verbally but ultimately decides to simply nod instead—he avoids eye contact, a deep bush coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He knows that Muriel wouldn’t lie to him about something like this, that Muriel would have ended this a long time ago if he was truly uncomfortable.

 “Tell me to stop if it’s too much, alright?” He waits for Muriel to give some sign of acknowledgement, which he does by inclining his head slightly.

 Even sitting down, Muriel’s impressive height is comically over-exaggerated from Malachi’s vantage.  He softly places a hand on one of Muriel’s muscular thighs, urging them apart a little more. The fabric of his trousers is rough, leading Malachi to assume that he denies himself comfort in even the material aspects of his life.

 Carefully, he begins to untie the waistband, still anticipating an abrupt end to this encounter. Muriel still isn’t looking at him, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground, he grips the sheets to hard that his scarred knuckles have turned white, his jaw is clenched tightly, and his blush has only deepened. When Malachi finally slides his trousers down for enough to free him, he inhales sharply.

 He’s proportionally big, and so hard that it must be painful. Malachi wonders to himself if this has ever been offered to Muriel in such a way. Has he ever known a kind touch in a setting such as this? Does he even allow himself release when he’s alone, or is he too ashamed even then?

 Malachi looks up once again, and Muriel meets his eyes for a split second. “You’re safe here, okay? I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

 “I’m not scared.” He replies firmly, averting his gaze once again, and Malachi smiles a little.

  At the first brush of contact, Muriel’s entire body tenses. He soon realizes that it would be impossible to fit Muriel’s entire length into his mouth; however, judging by the state of his arousal, he likely wouldn’t last long enough for Malachi to do so anyway. He starts with his tongue, trailing a wet stripe along the underside of the shaft. Spurred on by the sound of Muriel’s shaky breathing, he puts his lips around the head and begins to suck lightly.

  The thunder outside begins to creep closer. Malachi can hear the steady fall of rain against the thin roof of the hut. It’s almost jarring how at-ease he feels here, safe between his partner’s legs. Reaching up, he takes one of Muriel’s large hands in his own, guiding it to rest on the top of his head. He gently curls his fingers in Malachi’s hair-- not hard enough to guide his movements, but just enough for him to feel his presence. As his own arousal grows, Malachi uses his free hand to palm himself through the fabric of his clothes, and Muriel tenses once again when he realizes exactly what he’s doing.

  Just as he sensed the storm, he can sense Muriel approaching climax, still holding himself back despite everything. Malachi peers up at him through his lashes, attempting to encourage him to _let go,_ and is pleasantly surprised to find Muriel looking back at him with lidded eyes and a slack jaw.

  It happens in a rush when he finally does; his breath quickening, his thighs shaking, his hold on Malachi’s hair instinctively tightening and then loosening. He releases himself onto Malachi’s tongue, and he watches in astonishment as Malachi gratefully swallows.

  He follows Muriel over the edge just moments later, resting his forehead on his partner’s thigh and letting out an undignified keening sound that causes them both to jump in surprise. As he tries to regain control of his breathing, he becomes aware of Muriel’s hand still resting on his head.

 --

 The rain only grows more fervent, the wind howls, lightning crackles. The fire is warm, however, and the mattress is surprisingly comfortable. Although, the quality of the mattress is of no real concern to Malachi, as he lays with his entire body on top of Muriel’s—his head resting on the bigger man’s chest.

 The silence between them is comfortable. When they had both finished and composed themselves enough to move, Muriel looked at him awkwardly and said, “that was…nice.”

 It was nice. This was nice. Despite the raging wind and the Autumn chill, Malachi never felt warmer in his life.

  The rise and fall of Muriel’s chest beginning to steady, Malachi decides to close his eyes. Before sleep can claim either of them, Muriel opens his mouth again.

 “Thanks.”

 Malachi lifts his head, smirking. He presses a kiss to the tip of Muriel’s nose, then to his cheek, then to his lips—which causes him to blush and look to the ceiling.

 “ _Thanks.”_ Malachi echoes, settling his head back down and drifting off to the steady sound of rain against the roof.


End file.
